Daywalker
by SilenceRedux
Summary: (AU) Among the millienial cults and demon covens, life is busy in Sunnydale. But the appearance of a new kind of demon coupled with a mystery woman for whom they're looking for unknown purposes, life is about to get even more interesting on the Hellmouth
1. The Faithful

The second hand reached the 12, and time was frozen.  
  
Andraia tucked the pocketwatch back into her bodice, let the magic flow into the air and began moving. She walked through the bodies like a jungle cat stalking its prey, examining every aspect of the fray. The Slayer had her stake raised, ready to plunge it into the chest of one of the Master's most beloved. The spiky-haired white-hat had another of the Master's Faithful around the waist, ready to push her backwards onto the broken barrier. The Master himself was grinning like a Cheshire Cat. The cattle were milling about, some with makeshift stakes, and the cannon fodder were doing their best to quell the uprising of the peasants.  
  
She sighed, and moved through the frozen bodies. Her diviniations had seen this coming. She paused beside the body of Darla, who one of the former captives had gotten with a lucky stake through the heart. She was only half-dust at this point in the timestream, and Andraia took the time to study the process.  
  
She could save them all, or she could watch them all die. She moved lazily through the still battle, picking and choosing who would live and who would die. The Master, of course, would come out on top. The prophecies were never wrong: he would face the Slayer, and the Slayer would die.  
  
She left the Master as he was, with blood in his eye and a killing smile on his face. She already knew how this battle would come out.  
  
She circled the Slayer, giving her a careful assessing look. "Strong, lithe, experienced," she said, and licked her fangs. "But you will die. It is your destiny."  
  
The other two Faithful would, of course, survive. She would see to it. She had too much fun with them both to let them go to dust and oblivion. With a flick of her fingers in Xander's direction, she freed him from the time spell. He resumed motion, backhanding the Slayer across the face before he realized what was going on. He took in the stake, the frozen Slayer, and then his gaze went to Andraia, standing off to the side.  
  
Andraia giggled, and waggled her fingers at him. He grinned at her. "Thanks babe," he said, sliding an arm around her waist.  
  
"Couldn't let you be dusted," she purred into his ear. Over his shoulder, she flicked her fingers at Willow, likewise freeing her from the spell. "Wouldn't be much fun without you two around."  
  
Yellow eyes gleamed at her as Willow turned and sank teeth into the spiky-haired white-hat who had been trying to murder her. Abruptly she looked away, teeth and lips stained red. Her face reverted to its human appearance. "Bored now." Licking her lips, she sauntered to where Andraia and Xander were snuggling, and insinuated herself into the middle with no protest from the other two. Xander's other arm slid around her waist and Andraia's free hand began toying with the back of her neck. "Not fun," she commented, looking around at the suspended moment.  
  
"Would have been less fun if you'd been killed, darling." Andraia began walking towards the Master. Attached as she was to the other two, they trailed along beside her.  
  
Xander's face shifted as they went past the Slayer, who was now prepared to stake thin air. He snarled at the blonde. "I could have taken her."  
  
Willow broke off of the train to run her fingers through the Slayer's hair and across her cheek. "She's all pretty," she said driftily, walking around the girl, with one finger on her cheek at all times. "So full of life." She glanced at Andraia and smiled prettily. "Can I play with her?"  
  
Andraia moved away from Xander to wrap both arms around Willow's waist, her chin resting on the other vampire's shoulder. "I'm sorry, darling, but that's the Master's job."  
  
"What if she wins?"  
  
"Xander!" Willow tore her gaze from the Slayer's throat long enough to stare at him.  
  
He shrugged, and idly reached out to caress the Slayer's cheek, sliding his hand along her jawline. "I'm just saying. I don't think Andraia can save my ass twice in one night." His thumb traced over the Slayer's cheekbone, and the killing lust both his girls loved so much lit in his eyes. "It would be so easy to snap her neck now."  
  
"Infallible prophecy, Xander," Andraia said, stepping back from Willow with a word of discontent from the other girl. "The Master will face the Slayer, and the Slayer will die." She began her path back to the Master again. "Besides, if you kill what he's so hard up to slaughter himself... how do you think he'll view that?"  
  
Xander grumbled, but he stepped back from the Slayer, and reached out to gently pull Willow to him. "Fine."  
  
Andraia heard the growl in his tone and just smiled prettily at him. "Don't worry love," she purred and molded herself to their sides again. "Soon it will be our time. We'll remain Faithful... for now."  
  
They mounted the stairs and passed the stopframe dusting of the vampire once known as Angelus. Andraia snorted, figuring the abomination had got off light in the end. Willow pouted. "Puppy's dead," she sulked. Xander nibbled on her earlobe.  
  
"We'll get you a new puppy, pet," he promised in a low tone.  
  
Andraia's eyes went to the spiky-haired white-hat, immobile in the instant before his death. Willow's teeth prints were still visible on the side of his neck, a shattered vein showing in the bite wound. Time as still as it was, the smaller broken veins and capillaries hadn't even begun to trickle blood from the edges of the wound yet.  
  
Andraia smiled. "Yes darling. We will." She spun out of their arms and strode to the dying man. She brought her right wrist to her mouth, bit deep, and forced the man's jaw open. She heard it crack under the pressure of her hand, supernatural strength being what it was, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She placed her wrist at his mouth, tilting it so her blood flowed into his mouth and down his throat. Her smile grew to a grin as she drew her wrist down and moved back to the other two Faithful. She whispered an incantation to make it a little more fun, and a darkish sort of light flared in his eyes. He would be dead when he hit the floor, but he would rise again.  
  
She offered her arm to them, and Xander bent his dark head to drink first. Her free hand came up to trace over Willow's nose and cheek. "Merry Christmas, darling," she purred, and the redhead's entire face lit up. "You have your new puppy."  
  
Willow's face melted into her true features as Xander surfaced, licking his lips. "You're the best," she giggled, before bending to sink her teeth into Andraia's wrist.  
  
"I know," she said smugly, and flicked the fingers of her left hand at the room in general. The battle resumed. The old puppy cried out to the Slayer as he fell to ash, and the new puppy had time for a wide-eyed "how the hell did this happen" look before he crumpled to the floor. The Slayer faltered for a second as she processed the fact that her opponent had vanished, and then her equilibrium was restored as she went into a spinning back kick that bowled Kyle head over heels. She finished up with a sure strike to his heart with her stake, and the vampire was dust.  
  
"You know, I never liked him," Xander commented, a slow grin starting.  
  
Andraia, Willow and Xander moved leisurely up the stairs, unbreakable as they had always been. The Master caught their eyes, and a pleased smile crossed his face. He turned to face the Slayer again and began shoving people out of the way. The Slayer went through the same motions.  
  
The Faithful stood atop the platform, watching the carnage below. The Master and the Slayer reached each other, traded blows. For a brief moment, it seemed that the Master would fail as he reeled back from a particularly crushing side kick. They watched, impassively, as he recogvered just in time to block the descending stake and backhand her. She spun about face, and dropped to her knees. Her arms only had time to come halfway up as the Master's hands settled on either side of her head.  
  
Neither Andraia nor Willow could help giggling happily as the icrak!/i of the Slayer's neck breaking sounded through the room.  
  
"Told you," Andraia said softly, and giggled again.

==========

The Standard Disclaimer: Characters and plotlines of the TV show "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" used here are copywrite to Fox, Mutant Enemy Inc and other affiliates. Used without permission. Copyright infringement obviously intended (as that is the nature of fanfiction), but no profit is being made by the author from this piece. All original characters copywrite the author.


	2. Beginnings

The moon shone down on Sunnydale, rising half full over the cemetary, and shedding silver illumination on the headstones. Deep shadows pooled in crevices and covered the engraved names in darkness. Buffy walked across the grass, hair tucked into a cap and wrapped in a warm jacket against the chill of the night.

She stopped by a fresh grave, and stared at the mound of earth. Idly, she pulled a stake from her pocket and began to clean her fingernails with it. "Now, Mr. Redstone," she said conversationally to the grave. "I hope you're not one of those late risers. I've got a paper due tomorrow, so whenever you're ready."

The minutes ticked by with only the moon overhead and the silent graves around to keep her company. She fidgeted, checking her watch from time to time. The vampire didn't rise.

A slight noise to the left caught her attention, and she whipped her gaze around in time to see a large figure dart across a moonlit area, disappearing into the darkness. Another one followed a second later. By the shape and fluidity of the figures, she could tell they were a far cry from human.

"Finally, some action," she muttered, hopping down from the tombstone and in the direction the demons vanished. She stalked the demons through the shadows, following their mystical trail. Slayer intuition struck another home run. She came upon the two demons as they were attempting to break into an old crypt.

"That's so sweet," she said cheerily, stepping from the shadows with her arms crossed. The rest of her smartass comment, something about demon couples and how it was nice to see them shopping for a home, died on her lips as they spun to face her, snarling. She couldn't help taking a step back, grimacing in disgust. She'd seen ugly, and she'd seen hideous. But these things went beyond such simple description.

They were naked, unless green, viscous slime counted as clothing. A double row of jagged and broken yellow fangs that would make a tyrannosaurus proud glinted at her in the moonlight. Covered in scales, with green flamelike orbs for eyes, they vaguely reminded Buffy of textbook pictures she'd seen of dinosaurs. Simple glyphs ran down both their skulls, carved right into the skin of their faces. Something in the back of Buffy's mind niggled at the image the glyphs formed, but the rest of her was boggling at the demons.

The demon on the right took Buffy's lapse of equilibrium to jump at her. Only luck saved her from becoming the main course. As she went down with the demon atop her, a squeal of pain erupted from the demon's throat. It shuddered once, convulsed, and the hellish lights faded from its eye sockets. It had fallen on her stake.

"Mr. Pointy saves my ass again," she told herself. "I'm going to have this thing bronzed." She groaned, and heaved the corpse off her, hand-springing back to her feet in a defensive stance. Just in time, it seemed. The demon's corpse hissed and bubbled and dissolved. Into what, Buffy didn't see. The second demon came at her with a low, snarling hiss, swiping with a clawed hand at her head.

She ducked and the swing went wide. The demon stumbled, and she followed through with a low, solid kick to the thing's solar plexus. It grunted and dropped to the ground. One taloned foot lashed out, caught her ankle and dropped her to her back. She rolled with it, felt something whistle past her shoulder and she was on her feet once again.

The demon and she stared at each other for a moment, slowly stepping left to circle each other. "You're good girl," it snarled.

She shrugged and smiled brightly. "I work out, eat my green veggies, early to bed."

"Smart mouth too."

"You're not the first to tell me that." Buffy rolled one shoulder, still smiling as bright as the sun. She let utter confidence leak into her next statement. "I'm sure you won't be the last." Deliberately, she let her shoulder drop as she finished the roll. The demon, seeing the opening, went for it. She smiled triumphantly as she moved lithely out of the demon's path, stepped behind it, and drove her thrice-blessed and sanctified knife through the top of its spine. Lightning-fast, she twisted the knife, and pulled it back out. Smoke followed the blade out as the demon's flesh seared from the holy blade.

"You demon types," she clucked as the demon fell limply to the ground. She kicked it over onto its back. "You're so predictable."

The demon laughed, through the luminescent blood bubbling through its lips. "You'll never stop the Coming," it gurgled through its laughter, and stopped to cough. "The blood of the daywalker brings him forth, and you will not be able to stop it. He shall feast on your bones, and he will...will..."

"Will what?!"

The demon choked, and the twin fires that were its eyes died out. It sank back limp, limbs askew, lifeless in the grass.

Buffy sighed and moved back from demon's corpse. She watched as it went the way of the first, dissolved into greenish slime. The slime sank into the grass after a moment. "I'm going to need a note for that term paper."

The snarl of the late-rising Mr. Redstone was the only warning she had. She stopped, rolled her eyes and pulled out her stake. "I'm tired and covered in ick, so no games, okay?" She whirled and plunged the stake through his heart. A rush of screaming wind sounded, and the late Mr. Redstone fell to dust.

"I sense another sleepless night coming up," she said wearily to herself, and began the walk to Giles' house.

=====

Giles answered his door after the eighth pounding knock, yawning and dressed in his bathrobe. He blinked owlishly at Buffy and muttered something that might be a "come in" or a "go to hell".

"Good morning to you too sunshine," Buffy said, and stepped past him into the Watcher's living room. She had changed out of her clothing on the way here, tossing the slimed garments into the river. Buffy had learned to keep a spare change of clothing in the gym bag she toted most places, for these exact reasons. But she hadn't yet managed to get the goop out of her hair. She plunked down on the sofa and distastefully picked at the hardening slime in the locks of hair framing her face.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he murmured through another yawn as he shuffled over to the couch and sat beside her.

"Oh, I'd say roughly about three in the morning," she said, and pulled her cap off. "Time to get up, in fact. We might have a problem."

He blinked again, his focus coming sharper. "A problem?" he asked, suddenly alert. He rummaged in the pocket of his bathrobe for his glasses and slid them into place on his nose.

"Yeah. Sorry I couldn't wake you up with good news. Doesn't seem to work that way." She ran a hand through her hair and looked up at her Watcher. "Demons. Two of 'em. Big, slimy, scaley, green glowy eyes. Glyphs of some kind carved into their heads. Teeth that would send an entire generation of dentist's kids through university. Oh, and." She held out a lock of hair that was more green-blue than blonde. "Slimy. Did I mention slimy?"

"Yes, yes I believe you did." He cleared his throat and rubbed at his eyes. "They showed up while you were on patrol?"

She nodded. "While I was waiting for sleepyhead Mr. Redstone to roll out of the grave, in fact."

"Did they, they say anything?"

She shrugged and crossed her ankles on the coffee table, leaning back against the couch. "Said something about a Coming. Standard apocalypic fare. Grinding of bones and feasting on flesh. The usual, you know."

Giles was looking more and more alert all the time. "A Coming of whom? When? Did, did it say?"

"Nope. It dissolved into radioactive-green ick while it was mocking me." She reached into a pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. "These are the glyphs they had carved into their heads." She passed the rough sketches over to Giles, who unfolded the paper and adjusted her glasses. "One of them looked kinda familiar, but I've looked through so many demonologies and compendiums over the past two years that I... Giles?" She half-rose off the couch, alarm sharpening her tone. "Giles, what is it?"

Giles' face went sheet white as he stared at the scrap of paper. His hand trembled, rattling the paper. "I believe I know where you've seen these before," he said faintly, and stood up. He moved to the bookcase, slid a book from the shelf and flipped through its pages. He compared the sketches to something in the volume, and looked decidedly unhappy. With his skin positively ashen, he handed both back to Buffy.

She carefully took the book, still watching him in concern. When she turned her own gaze to the page Giles had left open, she could feel her own blood rushing from her cheeks.

The sketches weren't much taken separately. But if she put them all together, they added up to something that looked suspiciously like the centerpiece of the crest of the family Giles.

"Lucy, you got some esplainin to do," she said quietly.

=====

Willie the Snitch rarely closed his bar. Rarely did he have opportunity. Between daytime demons and nighttime vampires, he had business aplenty. But lately there had been rumors of a new cabal of demons that had taken up residence in good old Sunnydale, and most of the regulars were laying low. The truly cowardly had fled the Hellmouth altogether. They'd return -- they always returned -- when the danger was over. Should things go truly south, well... there was another Hellmouth in Cleveland where they could take up residence.

But a nice, slow Wednesday morning was just the thing he needed to catch up on inventory and paperwork and the like. And yet... something was wrong. Willie was only a human, but he'd been around demons long enough to know when something was up. A different scent wafting from upstairs, the slightest noise... Something alerted him in time to turn to stare at the stairs.

One boot came into view, black leather with a two-inch heel, most of the leg hidden beneath tight black leather pants. It was followed by a second Willie followed that leg up past a well-toned thigh, over a softly-rounded bare hip and up a golden expanse of torso to the tight red shirt holding in a nice pair of breasts. The cascade of black hair surrounding her shoulders started there, framing a face set with bright green eyes between the strands and a black velvet choker around her throat. A pair of detached sleeves in the same deep maroon shade as the shirt she wore, starting at the biceps, flowed past her wrists in large bell shapes. If it had been anyone else, Willie would be in love. But not with this one. Oh no. Not with this one indeed.

She folded her arms, and took another languid step down the stairs. "You know," she said conversationally. "I'd feel a lot better if I knew you weren't undressing me with your slimy little eyes."

Willie belatedly realized that his mouth was flapping like a fish out of water. He took a step back, and his shoulders hit the wall. "They-they-they said you were dead."

One more lazy step and her mouth twitched in a half-smile. "Many have tried, Willie. Many have tried."

"Butbutbut... you're not... not supposed to be here."

"You see, Willie." One more step, followed by another in slow progression. "That's the funny thing about the Hellmouth. It's a center of mystical convergence, and it draws people and things to Sunnydale. There is no such thing as coincidence in this town."

He swallowed, licked his lips a few times. "Strange things happening in town these days. Walking dead and a couple of new demon cults and the like. Busy week for the Hellmouth. Now you. Gotta wonder at that."

She laughed. "Oh no, Willie. I've been here for awhile. Right under the Watcher's nose, in fact."

Willie swallowed, forgot that he was flush against the wall and tried to take another step back. "Spike know you're here?"

A perfectly arched eyebrow raised. "Bleachhead lives on the Hellmouth these days like a common demon? My, how the mighty have fallen."

"Has been for awhile now. Same as you." Wheels started turning in Willie's head. If she didn't know Spike was here, there was a damned good chance Spike didn't know she was here either. If he hadn't heard, Spike definitely wouldn't have heard. And since no one had come his way asking about the daywalker... Terrified or not, if Willie lived in a cartoon, he'd bet that there would be dollar signs in place of his pupils right about now.

"Ever the opportunist aren't you," she purred, and Willie was suddenly very afraid. Somehow, she had gotten right in front of him while he had been off in his daydreams, and now she was no more than a few inches away.

Her scent washed over him, drowned him. Her eyes filled his world, and try as he might, he couldn't look away. "You wouldn't dream of selling me out, would you, Willie?" Fangs flashed in his vision. Dainty, catlike fangs that gleamed sharp and bright. He gulped air, and the cold sweat migrated to the rest of his body.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he whispered. Inwardly he was thinking that this must be how the mouse felt in the gaze of a snake.

"Good," she said, and abruptly moved away. "I'd hate to have to bespell you, or kill you. It's not good karma. But since we have an arrangement..." A hand disappeared behind her, and reappeared a moment later full of crisp new twenties. She tossed them onto the counter with a lazy flick of her wrist and turned back to the exit.

"See that no one hears word I'm in town. Not until I'm ready." She began to mount the stairs again, then paused in a shaft of sunlight. It lit her hair with a halo of gold, and shone in a bright aura around the rest of her body. "Oh, and Willie?"

He froze, one hand outstretched to the bills on the counter. There was that hypnotic stare again. "Yeah?" he squeaked.

"I know how adverse to pain you are, and how some of your clients like to threaten you with bodily harm. I don't care, particularly. I bought your silence, so stay silent. If you find yourself wavering just remember..." She flashed her fangs again in a smile. "I can do much worse than even they could dream."

She disappeared up the stairs without a sound, but it was a long time before Willie dared to move. "After graduation day," he muttered as he snatched up the small packet of bills and thumbed through them, "I'm moving out of this crazy town."


	3. Their Time to Fly

"So these demon had Giles' family crest carved into their faces?"

Willow's eager, inquisitive grin was waiting for Buffy when she looked up. Inwardly, she sighed. She was tired, cranky, and she was sure she'd be picking demon goop out of her hair for the next month. She really didn't want to go through the third degree with her best friends. But that was the thing about being best friends. What she wanted rarely had much to do with what she actually did.

Come to think of it, most of her life was like that. And boy did it suck.

"You don't suppose good ole boy Ripper knocked on some demonic doors and asked nicely if the Creature from the Black Lagoon and his girlfriend could come out to play?" Xander chimed in with his usual grin.

"I don't know," Buffy said, and ran a hand through her hair. She grimaced and picked the flakes of green-blue from her fingers. She'd be obsessive-compulsive by the end of the week at this rate. "Went to Giles, told him about demon-things, gave him the sketches, and found out that demons are wearing his colors. He went all Silent Boy after that. Said he had to make a few calls and that he'd tell me today. So far? Nada."

Xander reached into his backpack and brought out an apple. He bit into it, and around the mouthful said, "I don't know about you, but I'm betting on Ripper making a comeback." Buffy and Willow just gave him the i look /i . "What? We know Ripper was a badass, and that he was deep into the black arts, angry at the world, summoning higher powers. All that good stuff. All I'm sayin' is that it's a possibility, okay?"

"I dunno." Buffy scrubbed at her eyes and leaned back in the chair. "He seemed just as surprised as we were."

"Where do you think they came from?" Willow asked, her voice dropping. She was still grinning like a schoolgirl, like there was a big conspiracy she was thrilled to the bone to be a part of.

"I don't know!" Buffy snapped, then took a deep calming breath. "I'm sorry," she said. "I had a long night, and the day isn't looking any better."

Willow reached out and laid a hand on Buffy's shoulder with a sympathetic smile. "Well, why don't we go to the library?" she suggested. "Maybe Giles is there now. And if not, we-we can do some research of our own." She nodded, and the smile widened to a grin.

"As long as Ripper hasn't removed the books we need in an attempt to cover his own tracks," Xander contributed. He took a basket shot at the garbage can with the core of his apple. It went in with a thunk against the side of the can. "Yes! Three-pointer for Harris, and the game is over."

Buffy scowled at Xander. "You could be a little more positive, you know," she mumbled as she stood and slung her satchel over her shoulder.

"Could," Xander replied, also standing. "But what's the fun in that? I'd have to go around seeing all the glasses as half-full. And that sounds like an awful lot of work."

"You-you could be a pragmatist, Xand," Willow said, falling into step behind them both. "They say the glass is at 50% capacity."

Xander grinned and slung his arm over her shoulders in half a hug. "Thanks Will. But I think I'll stick to my pessimism."

Buffy let them both chatter behind her, their conversation fading into the general din of the crowded halls. She pushed her way through the students milling outside their classrooms, heading towards the library. A low headache was starting to throb behind her eyes and in her temples. "Great," she muttered. "Just what I needed."

Thankfully, the last few twists and turns in the hallways to the library were blessedly clear of students. Giles had purported -- using that exact turn of phrase, "I purport" no less -- that very few students actually came to the library because of the mystical energies of the Hellmouth. It explained away that nagging feeling of coincidence always working for them that Buffy had. Slayers led short, violent, suspicious lives, and the library always being free and clear exactly when they needed it made her twitchy and paranoid. At least, it had until Giles had given a plausible explanation for why it always seemed to be that way.

The thought of Giles turned her mind to the demons the previous night. She didn't know where they came from, but they gave Giles a good wiggins. And things did not happen by random chance in Sunnydale.

"There is no such thing as coincidence in this town," she said to herself.

"What was that, Buff?" Willow asked.

Right, she'd almost forgotten Xander and Willow were behind her. She forced a smile and slowed for them to catch up. "Nothin'," she said. "Just... talking to myself. Reflecting on how few and far between coincidences really are here."

Xander opened the door to the library for them all, and just shrugged. "Take it one day at a time, Buff."

"More like one crisis at a time. And that's if the Hell---" She broke off abruptly as she saw the person behind the main desk wasn't the person she had been expecting.

Assistant Principal Ann Lyonnes was sitting behind the main desk, engrossed in a thick, dusty tome. Which one, Buffy didn't know. There were many, many thick dusty tomes in this library. The assistant principal was dressed as she always was in a grey-blue skirt suit that hugged her curves. Her black hair was held back in a tight bun, and her green eyes were half-hidden behind rimless glasses. She glanced up, and her green eyes were piercing but warm.

"May I help you?" she inquired.

"Err... We were just looking for Mr. Giles," Willow said, with a hesitant glance to Buffy. "He'd promised to help us with our biology research. Got a paper due."

"Yeah," Xander nodded. "With the... biology stuff."

Lyonnes closed the book, and dust flew from the pages. She stood and readjusted her glasses on her nose. "I'm afraid Mr. Giles won't be here today. He called in ill. As we couldn't locate a suitable substitute in time, I'm filling in for him."

Buffy frowned slightly. Curioser and curiouser. "Oh, um... Do you know when he'll be back?"

"No, I'm sorry. He didn't say. Is...there anything else I can help you with?"

"Thank you, but no." Without another word, Buffy turned around and headed back out of the library. She sensed rather than saw Xander and Willow following her.

"That woman gives me the creeps," Xander said.

"Who, Ms. Lyonnes?" Willow shook her head with a wry smile. "She's nice. I like her."

"I'm with Will on this one, Xand. Giles being MIA or no. She's a nice person."

Xander shrugged, and looked between them both. "She always ... i looks /i at me."

Buffy couldn't help but grin. "People do that, Xander. It's a typically human trait."

"No! You... the way she looks at me... it's like she's seeing someone else. Kinda wistful and sad." He ran a hand through his short hair. "It really creeps me out." He paused. "When did she get here anyway?"

"Same day as Snyder did," Willow replied promptly. "Day after Bob Flutie was eaten by hyena-people."

"God, Will... must you bring that up? I told you, I can't remember anything about it!"

Buffy blinked, then grinned. "Defensive much, Xander?"

He scratched at the back of his neck. "I'm just saying..."

"I know...Look. I'm going to cut and head to Giles' house. He called in, so that's a good sign that he didn't just disappear last night. But we need answers about this. I can't deal with this and the mayor and whatever else the Hellmouth wants to throw at me this week. I just can't."

Willow's smile melted into a serious expression. "Alright Buff. What do you need us to do?"

"Research demons and find our slimy friends. Focus on why they're here and what they are. Giles might have the answers but we can't wait. I ... gotta go." Buffy leaned in to hug them both, then hurried away towards the exit while the coast was clear.

"Sure thing!" Willow called out after her. She blew out a breath, and muttered, "If I can convince Ms. Lyonnes to loan me the book she was reading."

Xander blinked. "Huh?"

"You didn't notice?"

"I try to avoid looking at that woman. As previously stated, she gives me the severe wiggins."

"Ms. Lyonnes had _Aurium's Compendium of Demonology _open. She tried to cover it up with another book when we came in. I don't think Buffy noticed, but I've read that book so many times I know it at a glance.

Xander turned to stare at the doors to the library. From this angle, he could see Lyonnes inside at the desk. She was chewing on a thumbnail and reading. From what he could see, she did not look happy. In fact, she was looking downright worried.

"Interesting," is all he said, though his eyes never left the small round window through which the assistant principal was visible. Beside him, Willow craned her neck to peer into the library, following his gaze.

Inside, Lyonnes closed the book, tossed it aside and buried her head in her hands.

======

b Somewhere Else /b 

Andraia let the remains of her dinner drop to a limp pile of dead boy to the floor and lounged back on her chair, idly playing with the flaps of leather barely holding together over her chest. Her meal had almost completely shredded her bodice in his terror, but she was in too good a mood to particularly care. His blood had been sweetened by his fear, and it had gone down her throat like ambrosia.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist and studied the patterns of the blood on the maroon material. She kicked her feet over the armrest and slid sideways until she was sprawled in the chair, lounging like a queen. She tapped her foot in the air and hummed with a blissful smile on her face, eyes closed, to the music pounding through the Bronze's speakers.

There was slight movement behind her, and then there was a mouth at her ear, licking along her lobe. Cool breath whispered along the nape of her neck, and she shivered deliciously. "Looks like we're going to have to get you some new leathers, kitten," Xander's voice purred into her ear. "I love it when they struggle, but it's hell on the tailoring bill."

Andraia slid one arm up to curl her hand around the back of his neck, digging her nails in until he hissed in enjoyed pain. She grinned and tilted her head to look back at him, and licked his lips. Her grin grew more catlike, smug and lazily predatory. "You should know I like it rough."

"Is that an invite kitten?" His fangs shone suddenly in a dark grin and he went for her throat. She grinned, but something ghosted across her senses, her mystical senses. Xander kept coming, but she pushed him out of the way, sitting up and swinging her feet to the floor.

"Where's Willow?" She looked around the Bronze, at the orgy of blood and death. Vampires everywhere feasting and screwing, playing pool with human limbs and heads. Blood fountained from the pile of fresh human bodies in the corner. It was a glorious sight, one that made her inner beast growl in hunger and lust. But there was no beloved slim redhead in skintight black leather.

Xander looked over his shoulder towards the door that led to the dungeons the Master had installed in the basement. "She's downstairs waiting for her Puppy to wake up." His voice thickened and he brushed one hand over her cheek. "I've never seen her so thrilled. Like a kid in a candy store." His hand tightened on her cheek until her bones creaked. Andraia leaned into his palm and purred through the pain. His eyes were dark and intense. "I owe you for that."

She growled playfully at him and snapped her teeth. "Later, when we're all together." She rose fluidly, and the pull on her thoughts grew stronger. "Something just changed," she said quietly and felt a slow grin of pleasure start on

"Good change or bad, kitten?"

She moved languidly to the center of the room, passing through the writhing bodies and the wriggling cattle. The bass pounded through her, resonating through the mystical tugging. She tilted her head to one side, closed her eyes and listened. She felt Xander come up beside her.

"Kitten?"

She blocked it all out, focussing on the beat of the music and the magical tug. She followed it down, through time immemorial, spiralling galaxies and exploding universes. And there...

Her eyes snapped open and she spun to face Xander. He was watching her curiously, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. She slipped both arms around his neck, brought her body flush to his and moved against him suggestively. Into his ear she whispered, "Go get Willow, love. Tell her to put the leash on the dog and bring him too. It's time."

He nipped at her neck. "Time for what?"

She grinned and moved away. Her hands traced over the ripped bodice, playing with the shreds of leather. "It's time to get me a new corset. And after that..." She spread her arms and giggled happily. "Then it's our time to fly."

========


	4. Choices

Buffy slipped her sunglasses from her head down to her nose against the blinding glare of the California day. She'd managed to slip out of the school without Principal Snyder catching her, but she knew she'd catch hell for it later. He'd be sure to notice she'd skipped out of her classes. Unfortunately, events often lead to Snyder breathing down her back. Such was the life of a Slayer, and boy, did it suck.

If only Faith were more reliable. But with her off doing her own thing most of the time, the only thing Buffy could rely on her to do was show up to slay vampires. With everything else -- research, legwork, planning and preparation -- she was definitely fringe. She lived the stereotypical life of the Slayer. Someone pointed her to the Big Bad of the week, and she shoved something sharp and pointy into it. Repeat if necessary.

Buffy sighed. If only her life was that simple. But she had chosen to go the stay-alive route, instead of the go-out-in-a-blaze-of-glory route. And it worked for her. Most of the time. But there were days that she wished she'd fit herself into the mold of the Slayers of Christmas past.

The walk to Giles' apartment didn't take long when one was striding with a purpose. Between the mayor's big day fast approaching, her routine patrols, her issues with Angel and the everyday small crises, she relied on her Watcher to hold everything together. It might fray, it might tatter, it might even begin to split around the edges. But it held firm. It was the secret to her success. Giles meant stability. It meant planning. It meant staying alive.

But this... this was a whole new kettle of fish, she could sense it in her gut. She'd seen her Watcher shaken and afraid before. But ashen and trembling was a new look for Giles, and though she didn't want to admit it to herself, she was verging on blind panic. The only time she'd ever been this close to it was the time Giles had decided to avenge Jenny Calendar by taking on Angelus. She'd almost lost him then. She was afraid she was about to lose him now.

The apartment door loomed before her, and she raised a hand to lift the knocker on the door. It never hit the wood. She hesitated, then gently laid the knocker back down on the brass plate beneath it. Instead, she reached for the doorknob. Rarely did Giles lock his door. Today was no exception.

She cautiously peeked around the corner, unsure of what she would find. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and it appeared to be the same as it had been last night. The stack of books in the corner with the one on top opened to the section that mentioned Ascension, the teacup was still on the table.

"Giles?" she called, moving cautiously into the house and closing the door behind her.

On a closer second inspection, she noticed there _were_ a few things out of place. The family history Giles had shown her last night was neither on the table nor was it on the bookcase. The phone was missing, as was the bottle of brandy Giles kept beside the couch for emergencies. The kitchen was slightly in disarray, as if he'd made a quick, hasty meal for himself and then neglected to clean up.

She paused beside the stack of books, and slid the top one into her arms. Diagrams and script in a language she counldn't read stared back from the page at her. She sighed, carefully replaced it and started to make her way to the kitchen.

As she was passing the stairs, she heard a faint voice, Giles' voice. It sounded less than happy. Buffy frowned and crept up the stairs silently. The voice grew more distinct with every step she took.

"...I know, Michelle, but this can't... would you listen to me for one moment? I need to talk to Randall... yes, I _know_ he doesn't take any calls. Jesus God, Michelle, just get him on the sodding phone!"

Buffy carefully mounted the rest of the stairs, head tilted to catch as much of the one-sided conversation as she could. The frustration in her Watcher's voice was evident, and as she stepped to the beginning of the hall, she could see him at the other end through the partially open bedroom door. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed casually in blue jeans and a light sweater. One hand was over his eyes, the other held both the receiver and his glasses, and the bottle of brandy was open beside an empty glass on the nightstand. On the bed behind him were half a dozen open books and several scattered pages.

She moved slowly down the corridor, one hand against the wall, eyes focussed on Giles and her ears perked to catch the conversation.

He swiped his fingers across his forehead before propping his chin in his hands. "Michelle... I need to... no, Michelle. This isn't about Jenny. It's..." His face twisted, contorted into extreme aggravation. He abruptly stood, shouting into the phone. "They're back, you silly ignorant bint! You stupid git, they're back. Yeah, I thought that might catch your attention!"

Buffy shrank back into the shadows in the hall and watched him pace, eyes wide. This was much worse than she thought it could ever be.

He sat back down and went back to rubbing his eyes, head bowed. "Just... get Randall to sodding call me. No, we've... we've got some time yet. Two months, p'raps more. I've pressing business here -- yes, more important than this! Unless you feel that _this_ situation supercedes a Hellmouth with a permanent opening into our world. No. No I didn't think so."

He sighed, and Buffy was shocked to find he looked _old_ . For the first time, she realized how little she really knew about Giles. Did he have siblings? How old was he, anyway? When was his birthday? She couldn't honestly answer her own questions, and somehow felt guilty she'd never taken the time to learn those things about him.

"Yes, fine. Give Kent my love. Goodbye, Michelle." There was a moment of silence as he just sat there, holding the phone in his hands and looking old and worn. "Damn!" He slammed the receiver back to its cradle and it gave a dischordant twang. Giles buried his head in his hands, resting his elbows. "Damn," he repeated quietly, and though she wasn't certain, she thought she could hear tears in his voice.

Buffy folded her arms and backtracked down the hall, eyes never leaving him. Finally, she looked away and just as quietly as she'd crept up the stairs, she moved back down to the bottom floor. With a soft sigh, she headed for the door and silently closed it behind her after she stepped into the sunshine.

Two months, he'd said. They had two months before anything went down.

She'd give Giles his two months, but not because she wanted to. Graduation Day was just around the corner. That took precidence right now. It was a hard choice to make, but such was a Slayer's life. For the third time just that day alone, Buffy contemplated how much it royally sucked.

She just hoped that the demons wouldn't be able to step up production on their rendition of "As the World Burns".

=======

"What's she doing now?"

Willow sighed and pushed herself away from the bookcase and sat back down at the table. They had entered the library under the pretext of that "biology stuff" they had mentioned to Ms. Lyonnes and taken a table as far away from her, but still within visual range, as possible. There were plenty of biology books around them to carry the cover story through, but behind the stacks, they were deep into the demon research.

Or at least, she was. Xander was busy tracking the vice-principal's every movement, flipping pages without actually looking at them. For all she knew, he'd already gone by the section they needed, and they were wasting time when they could be out finding Buffy and filling her in on this week's Demon Flavor of the Month. Or in math class taking that trig test they were currently skipping. Or if they were going to skip, she could be spending time with Oz. All very important things, and taken together they made her an unhappy Willow.

"Xander, can you focus on what you're doing, please?" She couldn't quite stop the frustration from leaking into her voice. It brought his eyes whipping around to her, both eyebrows raised.

"Forget your Midol this morning, Will?" he half-joked, but the surprise ruined the tone.

Willow bit her bottom lip and pushed her hair back behind her ear. She hated having to raise her voice to get anything done, and especially to Xander, who'd been her best friend since they were still in diapers. "Look," she said softly. "If you're going to be helping me with this research thing, then help me. But flipping through pages while glaring at a school administrator isn't research. You could have already found the demon, but because you're not paying attention, it doubles the time this is taking. So please..." She gave him her best puppy dog look, and meant it from the bottom of iher heart. "What do you want to do, Xander? You wanna... look at that woman over there and wonder what she's up to? Or do you want to help me find this demon so we can help Buffy?"

He eyed her for a long minute, then his shoulders slumped and he turned his attention back to the text in front of him. "You're right," he admitted, flipping back to the beginning of the book and starting again. "Finding the demon is more important right now. We'll worry about Lyonnes whenever she pulls whatever it is she's planning."

She grinned and reached out to pat his hand. "That's my Xander." She gave his hand one more pat, then went back to her own book.

Snyder's voice made her jump guiltily. Willow slammed the book closed out of instinct, and slid a biology book over it, randomly opening to a page on the life cycle of a fruit fly. It took her an adrenaline-filled, terrifying moment to realize that the principal was speaking over the PA. "Ms. Lyonnes, report to the main office please."

"Whew," she said under her breath, and watched out of the corner of her eye as the vice-principal ran a hand over her hair to smooth it out, stand and head out of the library. She waited until the door had finished swinging shut, then stood, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "Okay, let's go see what demon Ms. Lyonnes was so worried about."

Xander tossed aside the book and grinned as he followed. "It was driving you nuts too, huh?"

"Oh yeah. I'm all about the finding evil and the stopping evil."

"You think she's evil?"

"She's too nice to be evil. But something might be after her."

"Right. And I'm a vampire." He peered over the top of the desk to see the demonology she'd been reading the first time they'd been in the library with Buffy and another book, open to handwritten script. He nonchalantly snatched the demonology from the counter and leaned back against the wall, scanning through the pages.

"Um... you are. In another reality, though."

Xander paused in his flipping and scanning. "Oh. Right. Well... you still got the point though."

Willow glanced down at the other text still open on the desk. Something was familiar about it. She frowned and pulled the book closer. With one thumb marking the place Lyonnes had been at, she picked it up and looked at the cover, then the spine. "This is... a Watcher's diary," she said uncertainly. "But it's not one that was in Giles' office, I don't think. This one is a different color than the others. And... and it's written in French. Giles' are all translated to English."

Xander nodded, then paused. With one eyebrow raised, he glanced to Willow. "How do you know that?"

"When Angel went to the Dark Side, I helped Giles look through the Diaries. We were reading up on him." She beamed at the memory. "He said I'd make a good Watcher, should I choose to." On seeing Xander's expression, she backtracked. "But... but that's not important right now."

"Right," Xander said dryly, and picked up the demonology book.

Willow stared down at the diary in her hands, one thumb still marking the place Lyonnes had been. She opened it back to that spot and skimmed through the text. "It's all French," she reported, glancing back up at Xander.

He half-grinned. "Good thing you're fluent, huh?"

She smiled uncertainly, and looked back to the book. "It's in old form," she said. "And the Watcher who wrote it had bad handwriting. Translating it is going to take longer than the few minutes we have standing here."

"There's an exit in the stacks," Xander said, dog-earing a page corner and slipping the compendium into his bookbag. "Don't ask me how I know. Just know that I've had to use it a few too many times." He grinned suddenly. "Sometimes to even get out of school without being seen by Snyder."

Willow nodded, forewent comment on Xander cutting class, and put the Diary with the rest of the texts in her own bag. "I'll get to work on translating this. It might take a little while, but I think I can do it."

Xander grinned proudly. "And that's why you're our resident Giles-in-training. We're going to have to get you some glasses and a British accent, Will."

They picked up the rest of the demonologies as they passed the table, and went into the stacks to replace them on the shelves before taking what Xander jokingly called the "secret exit" and skipping the rest of the day. That gave Willow a nauseous, butterfly feeling in the pit of her stomach, but with demons on the rampage and the mayor planning something big for graduation day, they all had to make sacrifices. She'd just have to cope with missing one day of her education for the greater good of mankind.

===============

Willow never did get around to translating the book. Between the box of Gavrok and Buffy's aspect of the demon, hell hounds on prom night and the sheer terror of simply graduating, let alone the Mayor's transformation into the biggest snake Willow had ever seen and the school blowing up, she clean forgot about it.

The Watcher's Diary lay on the floor amid her grimoires and books on witchcraft until a stray misplaced step from Oz finally kicked it far under the bed, where it lay gathering dust in the darkness.


End file.
